


HT: The Deadliest Game

by webhead3019



Category: Hard Target (1993)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-09-24 15:57:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17103602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webhead3019/pseuds/webhead3019
Summary: Chance Bordreaux once again finds himself at the center of a sadistic hunting game. Although the cabal of hunters may have got more than they bargained for when Chance quickly turns the odds against them. The hunters-turned-prey will need all the help they can get as Chance is an army of his own in a bloody spectacle unlike any before it.





	1. Chapter 1

My name is Chance Bordreaux. I’m not good at making friends. What I am good at is my will to fight, so I’m alright with that. That will was put to the test 10 years ago in New Orleans, Louisiana. I was hunted like a wild animal, for pleasure and for sport. I was raised in that neck of the woods, particularly the actual woods. My will is second only to maybe a gang of bears.

I killed every single one of them as though it was my game all along. I’ve moved out since then. A change of scenery for sure, but trouble always seems to find me sooner than later. Especially when the area I settled in was a then inhabitable section in the south side of Chicago. It was only a matter of time. In the concrete jungle, hostility is abundant. The local police force can only do so much to bring order to chaos.

Outside parties that have achieved great wealth and power run this area. They have decided to use this predicament to their advantage. They are armed for a war, but impenetrable to the violence around them. These parties hunt the impoverished for sport. They don’t act unseen. Appointed authority figures either don’t care or are incapable of doing anything about the situation blossoming at hand. It is something understood all too well.

It is something I understand all too well myself. Probably no one else living under thumb knows this is a game. Like all games, this too can be won. These men may think themselves unchallenged, but they may be mistaken. The game is a no-holds-barred battle to the death. Everyone is game, even these so-called predators. As a past proven hard target, it’s my sacred duty to make this hidden rule abundantly clear again.


	2. Chapter 2

Chance waited for everyone to clear out. The bus driver was not far behind as well. Before he even made it out the opening bay, an unlit cigarette could already be found puckered between his lips. It was the last of the bus stops. Both the driver and the route was about to change in the next 15 minutes. Well not everyone had cleared out yet. Chance was waiting for someone and he’d be an idiot to be a no-show.

Chance had been a drifter long enough to know when a sought after man was in hiding. It hadn’t even started yet and he was already turning heads. That didn’t matter to Chance, because he’s waited long enough. It starts now. Even if he hadn’t drawn blood for what must be a lifetime now, he had never lost it. In Chance’s eyes, he didn’t find the fight. On the contrary, the fight found him.

Annoyed that he was holding out, Chance entered the bus. The man he tailed stood at the back, but he wasn’t in the position of a coward. Chance joked, “You didn’t like your odds better off the bus?” The man put up his hands like a boxer and said, “I’m tired of running. If you want a showdown, I’d rather it be here and now.” Too cute. He’s already admitted to being the hunted. This will not take very long.

Chance glanced around the narrow space and wondered aloud, “Hmm? Interesting place to pick a fight.” The man didn’t look the least bit amused and he certainly didn’t break hold. Chance thought it right to take stance too. So he did and said, “Very well. I respect your reasons for a swift defeat.” The man said, “Well, you’re cockier than I thought.” Chance replied, “Not cocky. Seasoned.”

Chance said, “I’ve been around the block before, so maybe you have too.” The man shot back, “That sort of lingo s’posed to fuckin mean somethin to me, Frenchie?” Chance said, “I’m just giving you a choice. Just like my mama gave me. Maybe you should listen? That way, you won’t miss the chance in a million.” The man asked, “My Chance in a fuckin million, eh? What would that be?

Chance weighed in, “Option A? You can finish riding this bus on your own terms, hop into one of your favorite jet planes, and continue down that same route, far away from here.” The man asked, “Option B?” Chance crouched down and tapped his thigh. Chance said, “I can ride you through it.” The man asked, “You and the cavalry right?” Chance said, “I am the cavalry.”

Chance got only as close as he required for the first and only kick. He was getting older, so it meant he had to be that much more precise. Even if he hadn’t aged much, his exercises did. This went without saying, as priming himself called for such a change. Seeing he was very much a man who needed to think on the go, he was a quick thinker. The man charged, but Chance’s charge came from standing absolutely still.

He had shut off his mind and would strike only at the best possible moment. Chance had trained for such an occasion time and time again. He had of course, developed his body above and beyond. It came crucial to aiding his mind or else it would have all been for nothing. The sidekick he delivered would travel at great lengths just to show that. The unfortunate people Chance kicked always traveled to great lengths to.

The man struck the rear window with the entire distribution of his body. The glass shattered and his made-suddenly limp body passed through flimsily like a rag doll. The man redistributed his weight upon contact with the ground. Never one to be far behind, Chance pursued. Chance vaulted through the broken window and safely dropped into a roll. He slowed into a squat, crunching glass debris under his boot soles.

Chance grabbed ahold of the man’s collar and dropped him just as quickly. He wasn’t getting back up, but he had friends close by. They didn’t pause, so neither did he. For Chance, it made more sense to run directly at it. Situations such as these can only be handled here and now. Chance may have painted a target on his head, but he wasn’t about to let any of the hired guns or guns-for-fun remodel it.


End file.
